


Can I confess? (I've been hanging around  your old address)

by KeepGoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek returns, F/M, M/M, Stiles realizes his feelings for Derek, alpha!Derek, derek evolved, derek moves into peters old apartment, derek rebuilds his pack, jackson still loves lydia, no braeden bashing stiles just doesnt get why shes still THERE, questioning relationships, sappy pack, stiles doesnt understand why braeden is still in town, stiles wants answers, the pack welcomes derek back, where is derek, zen!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it's not until Braeden bursts back into Beacon Hills on her black machine, guns blazing, did Stiles realize the main reason for the ringing of silence in his head.</p><p>Derek.</p><p>Where the hell was Derek?</p><p>Braeden gives no answers. Like its a special secret only she and Derek hold...or like she’s dangling this answer in front of Stiles’ face bringing herself amusement as he dances and juggles for the prize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I confess? (I've been hanging around  your old address)

  
  
  
“Where is he?”

Braeden raises an eyebrow at him as she holds her shotgun close to her chest. Malia furrows her brow at him as she looks between him and Braeden perched next to her at the long silver table in the Deaton’s exam room.

“You mean Derek?”

“No, President Obama. Yes, fucking Derek.” Stiles sarcastically throws at her who doesn't even flinch at his testiness.

“I haven't heard from or seen Derek in weeks. He’s probably where I left him.” Braeden says it with such coolness in her tone it makes Stiles wonder just how important Derek could have been to her if…

But he knew Braeden had come to find the desert wolf. Another mission she had been on for a long time. Long before she got thrown into their lives.

“Which is…?”

Braeden drops her heavy black boots from the table she had been propping them up on and sighs heavily. “Santa Monica.”

“How romantic.” Stiles mumbles and Malia gives him another peculiar look.

“It was.” Braeden challenges. Stiles swallows her words down. Hard.

“He changed his number.”

“No.” She says briskly with an underlying tone of condensation. “He threw his phone in the Pacific.”

Stiles feels the ache begin deep in his chest. “Mature.”

“He’s done, Stiles,” Braeden says to him like she had already reminded him a million times; as if she was scolding a young child.

“Yeah, well I’m not.”  


**************

  
It's not like Stiles is trying to be a dick to everyone. It's not like he doesn't want to crack jokes and flail around or God forbid SMILE once in awhile, but with everything that’s happened…

He’s been off. It's been one thing after another in this God forsaken town and he hasn't had a chance to breath let alone smile. There’s a constant sadness in the air that's filling the giant hole he’s had in his life for a while now. He tries to fill it with school, and his dad...and recently Malia. But nothing works. Every time he runs his hands down Malia’s skin it's too soft. Too perfect. Her inner scars may look a little bit the same as Stiles’ but she still doesn't quite understand the silence.

He wants to love her.

He just can't.

And it's not until Braeden bursts back into Beacon Hills on her black machine, guns blazing, did Stiles realize the main reason for the ringing of silence in his head.

Derek.

Where the hell was Derek?

Braeden gives no answers. Like its a special secret only she and Derek hold...or like she’s dangling this answer in front of Stiles’ face bringing herself amusement as he dances and juggles for the prize. He wants to kick her in the teeth.

But the bottom line is if Derek wanted to be here, he would. He doubts that Braeden would cause any real harm to him, and for all Stiles knows maybe Derek left HER. Or maybe he just didn't want to come back to Beacon Hills when she did. Like seriously, who would?

Stiles gets it. He understood when Braeden reminded Stiles that Derek was indeed, done. Done with this town. With the blood and memories and burnt down houses. There was nothing left for Derek here, and no matter how much Stiles thinks he should be here helping them in their time of crisis, Derek owes them nothing.

“It just makes me mad.” Stiles mumbles to Scott as the Jeep rumbles down away from Deaton’s.

“We can do this without him.” Scott reminds him. “We have been.”

Stiles just nods. Problem is, he doesn't want to.  


*************

  
Stiles finds it ridiculous that he has to even do homework. Yeah, he gets it. He’s still technically a high school student. He does still go to school. But the fact that he’s sitting in his room on a Tuesday night writing a damn chemistry paper instead of out like...trying to save all of Beacon Hills from impending death seems a bit trivial. And maddening.

But he promised his father that no matter what kind of chaos was lurking through the town or even the halls of the high school, he would still keep his GPA up as long as there was a school to attend.

The truth is there doesn’t seem to be that much impending doom rearing its ugly head in Beacon Hills at the moment. Since the beast was defeated and Mason safely extracted from its clutches, the dread doctors had been eliminated, and Braeden had successfully delivered the desert wolf, aka Malia’s mother, to the Calavera, stripped of her power.

So that leaves two questions Stiles can’t seem to shake out of his head. One, when is the other shoe going to drop and why the hell is Braeden still here if she finally got what she wanted? The desert wolf is gone. Mission accomplished. Go the fuck to Disney world or something. But she and Malia seem to be chummier than usual and the closer she gets to Braeden the farther away she pulls from Stiles.

Truth is, things have been weird between them for a while. Since the incident with Donovan and not telling Malia about it and all her own drama with her mother and then pretty much killing her and letting Braeden ship her off to Mexico, Stiles is sure it's a lot to handle. And yes, Braeden did help her. A lot. But does anyone remember the large shard of glass that Stiles took in the shoulder for all this? He has a scar for Christ’s sake.

But what seems to concern Stiles the most is the lack of concern on his situation with Malia. How he doesn't miss her climbing in through his window at night anymore. How the distance that has been drawn between them is actually comforting. He’s been trying to help Scott get through his own feelings about Kira leaving and the fact that Allison pretty much saved their lives in her own cosmic way, and it's a good distraction to keep his mind off the things that are eating away at Stiles. The things that he can’t seem to turn his mind off at night about.

And it's not Malia.

It’s Derek.

Derek was always just...there. From the beginning of all this when their entire world's got turned upside down and backwards. There was Derek. Mostly turning misfit teenagers into werewolves and shoving people into walls and there was a lot of eye rolling and growling...but he was always there.

Until one day he just wasn't.

And Stiles seems to be the only one feeling the loss. The weird emptiness in the town, in their lives, since Derek had driven off, kicking up Mexican dirt and never looking back.

He tries to throw his name out there in conversation, in times of research or problem solving and everyone just gives him an odd look like what the hell does Derek have to do with ANY of this and it just makes Stiles want to scream that HE HAS EVERYTHING DO WITH THIS.

But he doesn't. He shakes off his own misuse of Derek’s name and everyone else ignores he even mentioned it.

Everyone except Lydia that is. Because he thinks he was right from the beginning about her. Yeah, Lydia may be a Banshee but Stiles also thinks that DOES make her part psychic.

His cell buzzes on the desk next to his laptop that has been opened to the same damn blinking cursor for an hour now.

“Yes, angel of my world?”

“Cut the crap.” The ability for Lydia Martin to sound sweet and condescending at the same time has always baffled him. “You were particularly weird today.”

“Yeah, well in this town that really doesn't mean anything.”

“Stiles.” She sighs. “Out with it.”

“Aren't you like late for a date with Jordan?” Stiles leans back in his desk chair, using his socked foot to spin him around.

“Don’t deflect.”

Stiles groans. “Things have been irritating me lately that shouldn't be.”

“Like?”

“Like people's faces.”

“That’s mature.” Lydia pauses. “This about Braeden?”

Lydia really infuriates him sometimes.

“No. Why?”

“Because she’s still here even though she got what she wanted?” Lydia offers.

“I feel like she’s waiting for something.” Stiles mumbles. “Like she thinks we can’t handle what's coming. Like she knows what's coming.”

“Maybe she’s waiting for Derek.”

Stiles stops spinning his chair and the silence becomes deafening.

“It’s okay to talk about him.” Lydia continues.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Because he’s not here.”

“Maybe that’s why you wanna talk about him.”

“Lydia, you’re being even more cryptic than usual.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “You seem to be the only one willing to say what we are all thinking.”

“Which is?”

“You know what.”

“You know with someone with such a high IQ you sure as hell are vague sometimes.”

“Stiles, you going to make me actually say it? Because you can’t?”

“Lydia, I swear to God I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Stiles hears the jingle of keys on her end of the line. “I’m late to meet Jordan.”

“Was there an actual reason for this call, then?”

“I guess not since there doesn't seem to be anything you’d like to talk about.”

“Nope. Not me.”

“Okay, then. See you tomorrow.”

The line clicks off and Stiles chucks his phone onto his bed and begins to spin his chair around and around. He’s getting nauseous. But he welcomes the feeling. He welcomes the chaos. It feels weird when everything is...normal. He’s so fucked up.

The truth is there are a lot of things he wants to talk about. He does seem to be the only one ever willing to say the things that no one else wants to say. Cross boundaries everyone else is afraid of stepping over. Normally he’d be in everyone’s faces, flailing and demanding opinions and answers on things that just don't make sense to him.

But he just doesn't have the energy for it. He’s tired. Worn out. But it doesn't stop the thoughts from coming. From forming in his brain, waking him up at all hours of the night because that seems to be the perfect time for his mind to float there. When it's 2am and the moon is high and bright in the sky. When the soft breezes blow his curtains around in his room like they are dancing in the moonlight.

That’s the time he thinks about Derek.  


***********

  
"So I get the reason for the weekly meetings. Get up to date on the new big baddies in town, shoot the shit on the latest gossip swirling but I honestly have to ask, what the hell is she still doing here?”

Every looks at Stiles with wide eyes as he points, in the most accusing of ways, at Braeden who gives him a smug smirk.

“Dude, she did help us.” Scott whispers but not whispers in that way that Scott thinks if he talks in a certain tone no one can hear him but the truth is everyone still hears him.

“Yeah. Helped. As in past tense. I just don't understand why you’re still here.”

“I’m sensing a bit of hostility coming from you, Stiles.”

“Well forgive me for not being so trusting.”

“I’m just here to help. In any way I can. I have nowhere to be in this moment and I’ve kinda grown quite fond of this town. So I figured I’d stick around for a while.” She answers like it's that simple. Everyone nods in agreement, like yeah why not, seems fair and Stiles gives her and everyone around him a pointed look and does the hand thing that everyone has come to know as his signature ‘Stiles is freaking out’ gesture.

But no one pays any mind to him. He huffs, crossing his arms and flopping himself down onto the Mccall’s couch.

It turns into exactly what Stiles though it would with Gossip and laughter floating all around them. He watches as Parrish and Lydia touch hands and look at each other with such a fondness Stiles realizes how much it should bother him but it really doesn't. And Malia, who sits next to Braeden like she's her tether to the room should also give some sort of feeling, what feeling he’s not quite sure, but that's the thing. He just feels nothing. Nothing but curiosity and annoyance as to WHY BRAEDEN IS STILL HERE. It's actually annoying him more as to why he is so annoyed by her presence. He never used to think twice about her. But he knows that's a blatant lie because when she first showed up and fell into bed with Derek (Who doesn't, right?) she began to annoy him then too. But mostly just because she blows into town and has to hook up with someone right? And of course, it's Derek. Why wouldn't it be Derek?

Then she leaves. With Derek. And then comes back. Without Derek.

As everyone chatters around him and the thought goes through his mind and he finally realizes like an epiphany from heaven what the actual problem is.

She came back. Without Derek.

Without Derek.

Derek.

All the thoughts he had been having, answers he had been demanding from her on his whereabouts and why he hadn't been answering his texts of ‘Hey man, you alive?’ and the fact that how do you COME back to help people without one of the people who helped start this shit storm years ago, he realizes now were because of one main reason.

Not curiosity. Not annoyance.

“I gotta go.” Stiles stands abruptly grabbing only air as he tries to reach for his backpack on the floor next to the couch. The entire room falls silent as they eye Stiles with caution.

“Dude, you okay?” Scott stands with him and Stiles just waves him away finally latching onto the straps of his bag.

“I’m fine. I just need to go.” Stiles is out the door and to his Jeep within seconds and as soon as his door closes he finally remembers to breathe again.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He mutters to himself as he revs the jeep backwards away from the Mccall residence. What the hell is he supposed to do now? How does he process this information? But what exact information does he have now? That’s he's pissed Derek didn't come back with Braeden? But why? What the hell does that MEAN?

Derek being in Beacon Hills doesn't mean anything really in the grand scheme of things. Things have happened, bad and good, and the pack had squashed them and moved on and continued with their lives without him perfectly. To the rest of the pack, Derek wasn't like Allison who left a hole in their hearts when she died. Derek was just here one day and gone the next. No one really noticed.

Except Stiles.

Because no one felt the way about Derek that Stiles did.

The way Derek’s eyes looked the last time he saw them are not haunting him as he drives away from Scott’s house. How Derek stared straight into Stiles’ eyes with this look of peace on his face telling him in a simple expression that he was okay now and maybe Stiles could finally be too.

It should have been enough for him. Derek drove away that day Stiles realizes now with a piece of him. A piece Stiles didn't even know he had given away. But he did. He had been slowly giving pieces of himself away little by little to Derek. One day while driving a bullet wounded Derek around in his jeep. One night holding Derek up in a pool for 4 hours. Touching Derek’s shoulder as his blood covered hands trembled.

They were moments that Stiles never realized meant anything until Derek was gone.

And now that Stiles knows he has no idea how to get them back.  


**************

  
Stiles goes to push the send button on his cell phone and turn the ignition on the Jeep when the passenger door swings open and Malia hops inside. He turns to her, his eyes wider than he expects them to be.

“Hi.” he says slowly.

“You smell weird. You’ve smelled weird for a long time. And this time, it's not blood.” She wrinkles her nose at him.

“I...I guess just a lot has happened.” he chokes out.

She averts her eyes away from him and looks out the windshield into the school parking lots as swarms of teenagers make their way to their own cars and their own lives.

“Is this over?” She finally spits out.

“Do...you want it to be?” Stiles asks slowly.

“I think so.”

Stiles purses his lips together and he won't lie, there is a sharp pain that rises in his chest from her words. “Okay.”

“There’s just too much that has happened. I mean...I’d still do anything for you. And I know what you’ve done for me. I just…”

“No, I get it.” Stiles interrupts. “I wanted this to work. I tried. But...sometimes things just don't work out like you thought they would.”

“I think when school ends I’m going to go on the road with Braeden.” She spits out.

“Um, okay.” He turns his body toward her and gives her a lopsided look. “Like be a mercenary?”

Malia nods.

“I…” Stiles smiles. “I actually think you’d kick ass at that.”

She turns to him, mouth agape. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He finds himself brushing her hair behind her ear. “I really do.”

She smiles at him and reaches up to take his hand. Their fingers intertwine; one last moment between them. One last thing to hold on to.

Stiles realizes maybe not everything has to be so hard.  


************

  
Stiles realizes a few nights later as he has his back against a tree and he can hear screeching, snarling and growling just a few feet away that he may have spoken too soon about not everything having to be so hard.

There’s guns and yelling and Stiles can feel his heart about to contract right out of his chest and he just starts to run. He doesn't think about it, mull it over in his head before, he just runs. He’s normally not this much of a pussy. He would normally throw himself in front someone to protect them but he just...can't anymore. His legs are burning and rocks are getting stuck in the holes on the souls of his shoes and he’s fairly certain he’s stopped breathing because his lungs hurt so badly there can't possibly be any air left in them.

There is someone behind him. And Stiles realizes now, in hindsight, that’s why he’s started to run. He could feel it even before it was on him. The fight he has left behind echoes in the background of the preserve and its fading as he runs farther and farther into trees he’s never seen before. He’s in territory he has no right to be in, and he should turn around. He should run back or possibly just zig zag back to a part of the forest that they would actually possibly be able to find his mutilated body in. Because he knows even though he’s running, he’s not running toward safety. No matter how you look at it, Stiles knows he’s running toward his death.

Maybe he always has been.

Whatever is behind him is fast and he gets a sinking feeling that there is no way he is faster than this thing and it's just letting him feel like he’s got a chance to get away. Like some sick game. Like a hunt. Stiles is its prey and it makes him come to a realization that it's been like that for some time now.

Stiles would always be somethings prey. Peter. The Kanima. Jennifer Blake. The Nogitsune. He was an easy target. Human. In a pack of supernaturals.

He didn't belong.

Not anymore.

And as quick as he began to run, he just...stops. His feet skid in the dirt and he falls onto the ground, sticks and branches cutting into his knees. The palms of his hands catch his fall and rocks pierce the thin skin on them. It should hurt. It doesn't.

There is so much other pain; so many of other things that are screaming in his body; that cuts don't mean anything.

So he closes his eyes and waits. In his head, he says his goodbyes. He asks whatever deity that is out there, if there really is one, for someone to please watch over his Dad. He knows Scott will and that Lydia will go to lunch with him and Parrish will become like a second son to him and maybe with all the support his father won’t be in too much pain.

Stiles tries not to think of all the things he’s never done. And all the people he didn't get to say goodbye to. So just kneels, with his head low, and accepts his fate. It was his fate since that first night in the woods with Scott. When you run with wolves you take the risk.

And it was worth every second.

“Stiles.”

Stiles eyes, which even though he had accepted his destiny were squeezed tight, flutter open at the deep rumbling sound of the voice behind him. But he doesn't move.

Is he already dead? Did he have a heart attack while running and now he’s standing at the precipice of death and that voice is leading him into the light?

Or the dark; who really knows?

“Stiles, get up.”

But he doesn't. He can't. He can hear the rushing feet in the distance, the sound of a force greater than him. He can hear the leaves and branches dying under hurried feet. And he can hear the steady breathing of the person behind him.

And then it all stops. There are a few heartbeats now. A few mouths and lungs breathing out and he still can't bring himself to look.

He’s confused. And still scared. He doesn't know what’s real and what's not. He should count. He can count in his head; _onetwothreefourfive_ ; but he can't seem to bring his hands up from the forest floor to count his fingers.

_“What is he doing?”_

That voice. He knows that one too. It's hushed and he’s heard it before, a long time ago, in situations like this.

_“Is all this really necessary?”_

And that’s the voice that really wakes him up. It can’t be. Only in his impending doom would that voice be the one to wake him up.

Stiles finally turns, twisting into a squatting position, rocks, leaves and who knows what else stuck to the palms of his hands. It’s dark, he doesn't have night vision like the rest of his friends, but he doesn't need it. The moon is fuller than he’s ever seen it in this moment and he can make out all the faces perfectly staring down at him. Some in concern. Some in confusion. Some in amusement. Some in annoyance.

He sees the natural blue eyes first of two boys he hadn't thought of in a long time. One, still strong in stature and the same expression he had worn every day of high school until the day he left. Like the world was so taxing and he couldn't believe he had to be a part of it.

The other boy, with his cotton appendage wrapped around his neck like a security blanket, blinks his doe eyes at him with a look of confusion on his face; another normal expression Stiles was so used to seeing from him. 

And then he sees Lydia who is off to the side, her flowery skirt blowing rapidly in the night air. She cant stop staring. Not at Stiles. No, at him.

Parrish stands next to her, his pants torn like shorts now and his body covered in soot from his shift back to day job stature, his eyes flickering back and forth between the girl he fought so hard to obtain and the boy he has no clue who he is but Lydia is staring at him like he’s the second coming of Christ.

It's all so surreal and he feels like he’s outside his body right now looking down at the scene unfolding like an onion being shredded apart. It's a bad metaphor inside his head, but it's all he’s got at the moment.

Scott’s eyes he sees next just looking at him in pure concern, not even seeming to be phased by the chaos that is about to explode at any moment around him. Stiles tries to speak telepathically with his best friend because even blinking right now hurts him but it's not seeming to work.

Of course, Braeden is there, shotgun in hand, Malia next to her, both of them just confused and half annoyed at why all of this is such a chaotic mess. They don't care. They have no reason to.

When Stiles’ eyes finally fall on the face of the voice that brought him out of his daze, he literally feels all the air being sucked out from around him. It’s as if he can't breathe but his body begins to execute a small hum he has never before felt in his life. Different than the possession he once felt when he was trapped inside his own mind while his body did unmentionable things.

“Come on.”

A hand is being reached out toward him and he stares at it as if he could burn him if he touches it but also as if it's the holy grail and he’s been searching for it his entire life. He hesitates and curls his fingers inside his bloody palms. He lowers his head as if he’s ashamed of who he is and what’s happened and Stiles can't seem to pinpoint exactly why he chooses this moment to let consequences of the things he’s done flood him.

Maybe because the hand that is reaching for him extends to a person who understands pain and darkness better than anyone. It's a pain they share on levels no one can touch and if Stiles gets too close he may turn to ash just like everything else in the person’s life.

“Stiles.” The tone is firm but gentle. Long strong fingers wrap around his bicep and Stiles is being brought onto his rubbery legs and a protective arm goes around him like they know that Stiles walking right now is just not in the cards.

And that’s when he blacks out.  


*************

  
_“Do you think it's shock?”_

_“From what?”_

_“Well, considering he hasn't seen you two in years.”_

_“Stop being dramatic. It's not like I died…”_ Pause. _“Okay so maybe I did but, he’s being a drama queen.”_

_“Glad to see you haven’t changed.”_

_“Why would I? I’m perfect.”_

Groans.

**_“Could you all just shut up?”_ **

Stiles eyes finally open at the sharp voice and that’s when he realizes his hand is wrapped inside someone else's.

Lydia.

“Hey.” He whispers. She looks at him, eyes wide.

“Oh, Jesus. Stiles, you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I ran.”

She smiles at him and brushes his hair off his forehead. “I got that much.”

He shifts his eyes around the room and it's all too much with all the different eyes and expressions so he squeezes them shut again.

“I know it's a lot. Just breathe. We’re all glad you’re okay.”

“Where am I?” Stiles chokes out.

“My apartment.”

Stiles eyes spring open and they meet hazel. “Apartment.”

Derek just nods.

“Is this some kind of joke that everyone is in on except me? Because I’m super lost and super confused and I hate being the last to know everything.” Stiles tries to sit up but his body rejects him and he flops back down onto, yup he’s on a couch.

“Buddy,” Scott is next to him now. Oh good, someone he knows. And trusts. And isn't some weird ghost of Christmas past. “This is a shock to all of us. You weren't the last to know anything. I promise. They all just showed up to help.”

“One big happy family.” Stiles mumbles. Scott just snorts.

It takes him a few minutes but Stiles gets enough strength to push himself up into the sitting position on the couch and takes in the scene around him. Lydia is still perched on the arm of the couch next to him, hovering...or maybe avoiding. As Parrish has his arms folded, still not dressed by the way, as he continues his eye assault on the very still pompous and perfect haired Jackson.

Jackson is sitting in a leather recliner (Derek owns a fucking leather recliner) his head back against it staring at the ceiling bored out of his mind. Lydia keeps stealing glances at him probably wondering herself if this is just some weird dream she is about to wake up from.

And then there's Isaac.

Who is watching Scott, with puppy dog eyes, intently. He’s in the corner, in usual Isaac fashion, watching the scene as it unfolds, trying his hardest not to cause anymore commotion.

“Anyone wanna fill me in on anything?” Stiles asks. At least his sarcastic tone is still intact.

Braeden smirks and he glowers at her.

But no one says a word.

“See, there is something going on that I’m not being told!” Stiles tries to stand but practically screams when his legs give out from under him.

“You’re sore.” The voice. God, that voice. “You ran like 2 miles. Just relax. I’ll explain. Just sit still.”

“Still barking orders, I see. Alpha or no Alpha.” Stiles frowns up at the voice.

When Derek’s eyes flash red, Stiles’ hormones reject him and he moans like a whore.

And now the room, if it wasn't uncomfortably silent before, is now.

Derek moves closer to the couch and Scott moves out of the way and it doesn't make sense and it disturbs Stiles on a greater level but Derek is here and he’s still wearing those V-neck t-shirts and that's fine. Everything is fine.

Now Derek is sitting on the edge of the coffee table (Derek has a fucking coffee table-if this is really even his apartment; he probably broke in and killed the owners or something) and looking at Stiles with that look and Stiles doesn't know how to comprehend it because it's a new look. It's not like the looks he used to get and it's not even like the last look he got in Mexico from Derek.

It’s different. Everything is so different.

“Your hair got long.” Stiles blurts out.

Derek smiles shyly and looks down. “It did.”

“I like it.” Stiles' eyes widen and he brings his lips into his mouth. Derek looks him in the eyes again.

“Thanks.” Derek takes a deep breath. “Where do you want me to begin?” He looks around to the faces that have been here. The faces who have not seen his face; or Jackson or Isaacs; in quite some time.

“How about from Mexico?” Stiles whispers.

Derek nods and wrings his hands together. “I was with Braeden after everything happened in Mexico.” He doesn't look at her and Stiles can't help but feel smug. Why he has no idea. “We were searching for the desert wolf-” He eyes Malia. “Your mother.” Derek’s eyes shift back to Stiles and as he speaks it's like no one else is in the room but them. As if he owes Stiles this explanation only. “And when we caught wind that she had found Malia and was headed here we both felt it was best if Braeden came back to help. After all, this was something she had been working on for quite some time.”

“But you didn't come,” Stiles states the obvious.

“I was working on my own thing.” He glances at Isaac then Jackson. “When I... evolved I remembered what it meant to be a wolf. What being in a pack really meant. It was something my parents tried to teach me but I was so hell bent on power for so long and I was just honestly just so lonely after my parents and Laura died I let Peter into my head too much and I made so many mistakes. I had to right the wrongs I caused. I couldn't do anything about Erica and Boyd, so I started with Isaac.”

Stiles looks at Isaac in the corner and sees now that Scott is next to him and Isaac seems to be standing a bit taller now. Scott was always his Alpha. No matter who turned him.

“I went to France and found him. We spent some time together there with the pack he had found and we spent time together just as two people. Because the thing I forgot most about being a part of a pack, is yes loyalty comes just from the bite. The spark. But it also comes from the human part of you too. And I realized I never really knew Isaac. Or Boyd or Erica. Or even Jackson.” Stiles watches as Jackson just rolls his eyes. “So I needed to change that. I got to know Isaac. His story. I got to know his pain and he got to know mine. And when it was time for me to leave, when I felt like I had done what I came to do and told Isaac I was going to try and find Jackson, he asked if he could come with me.”

Stiles rubs the palms of his hands on his jeans and looks around. Everyone is enthralled with Derek as he speaks. It's the most words Stiles thinks any of them have ever heard him say. And the way he tells it, so genuine and articulate, it’s like listening to someone none of them have ever met, but feel like they have known forever.

“I found Jackson in London and honestly getting him to talk to me was actually easier than Isaac. The thing about Jackson-” Their eyes meet and Jackson just raises his eyebrow at him. “-Is that Jackson never needed a pack. I never really thought about why but after getting to know him; the him that probably only Lydia even saw a glimmer of; was that Jackson does really well on his own. He’s had to his entire life. So Jackson may not have needed a pack or an Alpha, but he admitted to me that he wants one. So I offered up the idea of coming back to Beacon Hills. To this pack. The pack that has always been here.” Derek glances at everyone and his eyes land on Scott. “I’m not asking to be Alpha. This is your pack, always was. But we want to be a part of it. I know you have new members, Werewolf, and human, and we want to get to know them. There was one thing I was always right about; we are stronger in numbers. And I’ve heard the things you all have done together in our absence. But together now, think of all we could become.”

“But Derek, your eyes…” Stiles forces out. Brown meets Hazel and Stiles just blinks at the pretty.

“Something happened to me when I evolved. I don't know if it's like what happened to Scott when he became a true alpha or what. I may have the Alpha spark but I’m not the Alpha of this pack. And I’d rather be a beta in this pack then an Alpha in any other.”

Stiles watches as Isaac and yes even Jackson nod at Derek’s words. Stiles gives Scott a pointed look.

“I...I’m okay with it. I...I missed Isaac-” He turns to him. “I get why you had to go. Being here after Allison must have been hard. I wish sometimes I could have just gone, but I couldn't.” He looks at Jackson. “And no matter what a pain in the ass you were, you’re still Jackson. You sacrificed yourself to save us and yourself. I’d be really happy if you both stayed here.” Scott steps toward Derek. “And they are gonna need you. I may be the Alpha here but you will always be their Alpha. They need that bond. And I’m okay with it. This is your land. Hale land. Who am I to tell you that you can't come home?”

Derek smiles and stands, shaking Scott’s hand. “Thank you.”

“This is all too fucking weird.” Stiles mumbles, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Is everyone okay with this?” Scott looks at Lydia, mostly, Parrish and Malia. “I’m going to need to fill Liam and Mason and Hayden in but I think they will be on board.”

“I…” Lydia presses her lips together with her eyes falling on Jackson. His eyes soften at her tortured expression and he just waits for her to say something. Just like she has been somehow always been waiting for him. “I need to go.” She brushes past the crowd of people and the doors slams causing everyone to jump in their skin.

“She’s just gonna need some time.” Stiles gives the room a lopsided expression.

“Is anyone going to explain this to me or do I have to figure it out on my own like everything else in this town?” Parrish asks sternly.

“Who the hell is he?” Jackson glares, throwing a thumb sideways toward the deputy.

“Oh, that's Parrish. Beacon Hills deputy. Oh, and also a hellhound. Oh, and he’s dating your ex-girlfriend. Parrish, that’s Jackson. Douchebag turned Kanima, turned werewolf...and apparently still a douchebag. Oh, and he used to date your girlfriend.” Stiles smiles, folding his arm across his chest.

The room just groans.  


****************

  
After a little while longer of everyone eyeing Stiles like he was going to freak out at any moment and Jackson and Parrish giving each other the stink eye and Isaac and Scott picking up right where the left off with the weird eye thing they give each other, they all began to pile out. Isaac really wanted to see Mrs. Mccall and Scott assured him that there was no problem with him spending the night.

Isaac and Jackson technically do live with Derek now; even though they have only been in town for a day and the apartment they are currently ‘living’ in used to belong to Peter, Stiles honestly doesn't think they have all really figured out all the technicalities of being back in Beacon Hills.

Jackson groaned about going to see his parents, even though he had been in constant contact with them while he was in London and they knew he was coming into town. Parrish left to go find Lydia; something Jackson snarled at and Derek had to give him the Derek look to keep him from saying or doing anything less than new Zen Derek like. This may be Scott Mccall Alpha land, but Derek for sure was Jackson’s Alpha.

Once everyone was gone; Braeden and Derek whispering to each other by the front door for more than 10 minutes, Derek finally walks back into the living room and stares at Stiles where he has been sitting all night. Unable to move. One, from pain, and two, from still shock.

“Are you okay? Don’t bullshit me.” Derek asks, arms folded. Some things never change.

“I am. Just, you were right. Rough night. I’m starting to get feeling in my legs again.” He gives him a bright fake smile.

“Why did you run? They had it under control. You’ve never run before.” Derek sits gingerly on the couch next to him.

Stiles can only shrug. “I’m not quite sure. I think it all just hit me at once. I didn't want to be there.” He pauses, picking at the nail on his left hand. “A lot’s happened.”

“I know. Braeden told me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Braeden. Right.”

“Don’t like her, huh?” Derek falls back against the couch.

“She’s just always around. It's infuriating.”

“She’s around because I asked her to be,” Derek says it so nonchalantly it makes Stiles want to punch him square in his beautiful face.

“Come again?”

Derek sighs. “She was doing me a favor. After everything went down with the desert wolf she called and told me and I asked her to just stick around until I came back.”

“To keep an eye on us?” Stiles spits out. “I thought you said we were doing fine without you?”

“Not everyone. Just you.”

Stiles sputters. “Care to explain that a little more?”

“Do I honestly need to?”

“YES.”

Derek just smirks. “I found that being away from you was the hardest part about being away.”

Stiles stares. Derek is showing no signs or uncomfortableness. No signs of fear or guilt. He seems...content. Almost happy to putting these...feelings out onto the metaphoric table in front of them.

“It's just something that has been on my mind lately. “

“What exactly has been on your mind? I need details here, Derek. Before I pass out. Again.”

“Specifically? You holding me up in a pool for hours. Me bleeding all over your Jeep. You being there for me in the subtlest of ways when Boyd died. Coming for me in Mexico. Coming up with all that money to try and get me back from the Calavera. The way you looked at me that last night. When you thought I was going to die. Those are the things that have been on my mind, Stiles.” Derek just shrugs like he didn't just unload every memory of Stiles that has been haunting him this past year. Stiles can't speak. He can barely think. He just stares at Derek.

“But it's nothing to concern yourself with. I’m back and I’m gonna get myself and Jackson and Isaac settled and go from there. You and Scott and Lydia are going to go off to College and possibly even Jackson and I’m gonna do my best to keep this territory safe.”

“College,” Stiles says slowly.

“You are going to college right?”

“I...yeah. But...so wait.” Stiles takes a few deep breathes. “You...missed me?”

Derek gives him his best ‘you are so cute when you’re dumb’ look. “Of course, I missed you.” He pauses giving Stiles a small smile. “And from what I hear you were asking about me too.”

“Well yeah! I mean here comes Braeden back, guns blazing, and you’re nowhere to be found.” Stiles finally stands, his legs a little wobbly, but he can walk and that's a start. “I need a drink.”

“I have drinks.” Derek walks with him, slowly, into the kitchen. He opens the fridge, handing Stiles a Pepsi.

“You have Pepsi.”

“Isaac likes it.”

Stiles takes the can, shaking his head. “My mind is totally blown.”

“Because I have Pepsi?”

“Because you’re all...and you...and then…” Stiles slams the can onto the counter.

“I thought you were thirsty?”

“Yeah, well…” Stiles grits his teeth together. “I’m very confused.”

“I’m happy to explain anything you need elaboration on.”

“See! Right there. Who talks like that? Who are you?” Stiles grips the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white. “This was so much easier when you used to just push me into walls.”

“Do you want me to push you into a wall?” Derek asks, his eyebrow raised and a smirk forming on his lips.

“A-Are you FLIRTING with me?” Stiles' mouth hangs open at the practical stranger in front of him.

“If I was?”

“But I’m...a guy. And me. And what the HELL is happening?” Stiles begins to pace, mumbling to himself.

“Stiles. Just because you’ve never seen me date a guy doesn't mean I wouldn't. Or have not. And there is nothing wrong with you. There was something wrong with me. But I’m working through it.”

“So you have this Zen epiphany, go and get the band back together and suddenly decide that ‘Hey Stiles seems like the perfect person to fuck around with.’ Are you insane?”

“Probably.” Derek huffs out. “Listen. I’m...attracted to you. You intrigue me. And irritate me. But bottom line, whether it makes sense or not, I missed you. It's okay if you didn't. It's okay if you want nothing to do with me. I wouldn't blame you. But it's out there. Do what you want with it.”

“Oh, I will. I’ll just…” Stiles stammers. “I’m just gonna take my Pepsi and go and do that.” Derek doesn't follow him when he leaves, but comes downstairs a few minutes later to find Stiles standing on the sidewalk.

“I don't have my Jeep.” He says softly.

“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”  


***************

  
_His beard is tickling the underside of his chin as he practically purrs and murmurs dirty things the most sensitive part of Stiles’ neck. Stiles’ fingers thread through the soft strands of hair at the base of his skull and cranes his neck at a different angle so Derek’s mouth can get a better grip on his skin. There are moans and smacking of tongues and lips Stiles never knew it was possible to be this turned on. He’s wanted people before but he’s never felt like he needs them. Like if he doesn't have them right now he could die._

_“Take your clothes off,” Derek whispers into the shell of Stiles’ ear. Stiles just wraps his legs harder around Derek’s waist, grinding into his-_

Suddenly it's cold and very bright and Stiles' eyes pop open to a red blotchy faced red head.

“Get up. I need to talk to you.”

Stiles shakes his head out of his very, very rewarding dream and sits up and quickly has to cover his lap with his blankets.

“Oh, stop. Like I’ve never seen a boner before. I have more serious things to worry about.” Lydia plops herself down in his desk chair.

Stiles rubs his eyes and yawns. “This about Jackson?” Christ, he’s still sore.

“No, it's about Isaac. Of course, it's about Jackson.”

“Okay, okay.” Stiles stretches one more time and focuses fully on Lydia. “Did you talk to him?”

She nods. “He stopped by my house this morning.”

“Okay. And?”

“And he said all the right things. Which is so not Jackson? How he missed me and how he should have kept in touch but he thought he was doing the right thing for me by leaving and not involving me while he found himself. He had no idea about, you know the Banshee thing,” Lydia waves her hand in front of her and Stiles smiles. It's odd to see Lydia lose her shit like this. And endearing. It makes her more human. “And then, of course, he says if he knew he would have been here sooner and yada, yada.” She falls back against the chair. “What the hell am I gonna do?”

“What do you wanna do?”

“Jordan is...amazing. And he gets it. He gets what it's like to be different.”

“So does Jackson.”

“But Jackson wasn't here. Jordan was.”

“But Jackson knows a part of you that Jordan doesn't.”

Lydia cocks her head and slides it against the headrest of the chair. “And Jordan knows a part of me that Jackson doesn't.”

“Touche.”

“So what do I do?”

“You’re asking me? I’m not the expert here on relationships. Up until a year ago I was madly in love with you.” Stiles finally stands, his boner gone, but his knees still a bit weak.

“Then you’re the perfect person to ask. Because now you just want to see me happy, right?”

“Yes. But I have problems with both your suitors. And not for selfish reasons.” Stiles grabs the Aleve off his bookshelf.

“Which are?”

Stiles pops two in his mouth and swallows. “Jackson is a douche and Jordan’s too old for you.”

Lydia bursts out laughing. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Is this about Malia again? I get that she turned into a Coyote at 9 but-”

“No this isn't about Malia. This is about the other one.”

“The...other one?”

Lydia gives him a pointed look.

“DEREK?”

Lydia just sighs.

And then so does Stiles.

“Listen,” Stiles kneels in front of her. “I can't believe I’m saying this but you need to spend some time with Jackson. Maybe you both will realize how much you two have changed and shouldn't be together. But you need to talk to Jordan. He was really confused last night and he doesn't deserve that.”

“I know.” Lydia pats his cheek. “So what happened with Derek?”

“Oh, nothing. The usual. He missed me. He flirted with me. Told me he was attracted to me. No big deal.”

Lydia smiles. “So question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“Besides having sexy dreams about him? I have no freaking clue.”

“Well, do you like him?”

“Does anyone really LIKE Derek?” Stiles eyes roll back into his head.

“Braeden seemed to.”

“Ugh.” Stiles bounces on the edge of his bed.

“See, right there? Jealousy. You do like him.” A small giggle escapes Lydia’s lips. “Okay. I need to go.” She stands. “I’m going to make Jackson take me for lunch.”

“Atta’ girl.”

“Spend some time with Derek. Take your own advice. Talk to him. See if there is something there. You both deserve it.” She turns, eyeing him, her hand on the doorknob.

“But it's...Derek. DEREK.”

“I don't know, Stiles. He doesn't seem anything like the Derek I remember.”

His bedroom door closes softly and he falls back against the blankets on his bed. “That’s the problem.” He mumbles.  


***************

  
He knocks softly realizing his hand is shaking as he does. This is ridiculous. It's Derek. DEREK. There are many reasons to be afraid of Derek...but this new reason...goes against everything Stiles has ever believed in.

He had a plan. A plan to get Lydia to fall in love with him. They’d go to prom together and then when they both went off to college they would spend hours skyping and texting and when they were reunited on holidays and summer vacations they would spend 2 whole days in bed getting reacquainted.

But somewhere along the way Stiles starting seeing Lydia as a real person and not just the fantasy he had conjured up in his mind for so long. She had become his best friend. Well, one of them. She had become a staple in their group. And honestly, he wouldn't want it any other way now.

So this new development? Where Derek strolls back into town with his misfit beta’s in tow and the feelings and words and...yeah. Not what Stiles had anticipated. But it's happening. And Stiles has to figure it out. It's what he does. He figures shit out. But it's a tad bit harder when it's your own shit you need to figure out.

Derek opens the door in just jeans and bare feet...fucking bare feet...and Stiles loses all sense of words and comprehension of anything else around him but Derek and bare feet. And chest. And God, chest hair.

“Stiles.” Derek gives him a nod then moves away from the door so Stiles can come inside. He doesn't move. Derek just sighs, grabs him gently by the wrist and tugs him inside.

The door closes behind him and he finds Isaac sitting on the couch watching...oh. Teen Mom. Nice.

“Hey.” Isaac gives him a small nod and his eyes drift back to the TV. “Do you want me to leave you two alone?”

“NO!” Stiles yells, even though he doesn't mean to. Derek just smirks.

“It's fine, Isaac.” Derek opens his fridge and pulls out a Pepsi. “Want ice, Stiles?”

“I...oh...uh...Isaac, you need to go.” Stiles stammers out. Isaac just smiles, turns the TV off, grabs his jacket and leaves every so quietly.

Derek shakes his head as he pours Stiles drink into a glass. Still shirtless.

And barefoot.

“Could you please do something about…” Stiles waves his hand toward Derek. He just looks down at his bare chest and wrinkles his forehead.

“Huh?”

“I can't talk to you like this!”

Rolling his eyes, Derek grabs a hoodie off the back of one of the dining room chairs and throws it on, zipping it up halfway, his chest hair still peeking through.

“Better?”

“NO.”

“Too bad.”

“There’s the Derek I know.”

They both smile.

Derek hands Stiles his drink and their fingers brush, on purpose they are both sure, and Stiles almost drops it.

“What are you doing here, Stiles?”

“Lydia said I should talk to you.”

“Okay.” Derek sits on the arm of the recliner and looks up at him. “What about?”

“THIS. YOU. ME. US.”

“I wasn't aware there was a ‘us.’”

“NEITHER DID I UNTIL LAST NIGHT.”

“Stiles. Relax. I don't expect anything from you. I’m just happy to be back and part of the pack.” Derek assures him.

“But you...want me?”

Derek reaches out, brushing his fingertips along Stiles' arm. “Yes, I want you.”

“You know, I always wondered why Braeden's very existence bothered me. Then I realized it wasn't really HER that irritated me. It was that she was here and you weren't. And I realized...fuck...I realized...I missed you.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, good. Now I don't feel so awkward about how I feel now.”

“But...why? Why me?” It's something Stiles can't wrap his head around. Derek is beautiful. And soft. And broken and perfect. Stiles is just...a mess. And he has no idea what he’s even doing anymore.

“I’m not quite sure. But does it matter? I felt empty...for a long time. I thought if I had a pack, it would subside. And it did, for a while. And once I got Isaac and Jackson back there was only one thing left missing. You. I feel...complete with you near me. I can't explain it, and honestly I’m not even sure I want to. I kind of like the idea of not knowing for a change.” Derek pulls his hand back and stands. “But it doesn't mean that I expect anything from you. I’m trying this new thing where I don't force myself or my wants on other people. I’m trying to do it with Isaac and Jackson and everyone else. I’m going to let Scott come to me if he needs my help. I’m not going to force it on him. So, you are still Stiles. And you’re not going to do anything you don't want to. It’s part of the reason why…” Derek huffs out a laugh. “Never mind.”

“What if...what if you realize the person I am now isn't what you thought you were coming back to?” Stiles whispers.

“Then I’ll help you become the person you want to be. Just like you helped me.” Derek shrugs like it's the simplest of tasks. Because he doesn't know about the nightmares Stiles wakes up screaming and sweating from at all hours of the night. He doesn't know that every time someone touches him he cringes. Derek doesn't see the washed off blood on his hands. Derek doesn't know about the part of Stiles that has darkened so much he isn't sure anything is going to wipe it away.

But as the thoughts invade his head of all the things Derek doesn't know, Stiles realizes that kind of darkness Derek does know about. It's been a part of Derek like an invisible limb. A weight that used to drag Derek down into the depths of desperation and loneliness. Their demons may have different faces, but they all climb out of the same hell to haunt them.

“I didn't even know how I felt until...I saw you...and I’m still not sure if this is just adrenaline or comfort or if I honestly had no idea I wanted you all this time.” Stiles confesses.

“You want me?” Derek asks, taken aback.

“Why else do you think I’m here?”

“To tell me to leave you the hell alone, I assumed,” Derek admits and now it's Stiles turn to look surprised.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“I haven't exactly been your favorite person, Stiles.”

Stiles shakes his head, his body relaxing and all the stress and heaviness of the things he’s been carrying around for a while now slowly dissipating out of him. “No. That’s the thing. You were always my favorite. My very favorite thing, Derek.”

There isn't time to tell who moved forward first but in the end, Stiles doesn't think it really matters. There are lips, soft, soft lips, on his and warm hands cradling his face and he feels free and scared and happy and he knows he is shaking but Derek is there, all around him, consuming and injecting all his feelings and movements and it’s like a finely tuned machine and Stiles knows nothing in his life thus far has ever been this perfect or will again.

Derek breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against Stiles’ as Stiles searches for his mouth again. Derek says his name in the softest tone that Stiles has to open his eyes just to make sure, yes that is indeed Derek Hale holding him and whose lips he just kissed.

“Slow. We need to take this slow. If this is going to be anything of substance...I need to take this slow. Please.”

Stiles can't figure out in his short-circuiting brain how Derek’s words are making him feel. Sadness and pity are felt for a moment at how Derek is practically begging Stiles to not let him make the same mistakes again and again. But he’s also turned on way more now due to the huskiness and growl in Derek’s voice because he knows just how much willpower it is taking Derek to not turn Stiles around right now and mount him. Derek Hale is that turned on and it's because of Stiles.

So Stiles only nods, placing a soft kiss on Derek’s bearded chin. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek whispers.

“Shhh, don't be sorry. I understand. It's probably better. Get to know each other.” Stiles lays his head against Derek’s hard chest. He feels amazing.

“I need that.” Derek rubs his face against the side of Stiles' head practically purring.

“I know.” Stiles pulls back and looks into Derek’s eyes and for the first time probably ever, really examines them. They are green with brown and some yellow thrown in. The sun is catching in them as its rays come in through the kitchen windows and Stiles is glad that he hadn’t noticed just how beautiful they were until now. He appreciates them, and Derek, more this way. Now. Now that he’s older, now that Derek’s better. Now that this could possibly work. “Plus I’m still only 17.”

“You don't act like it.” Derek smirks.

“Tell that to my Dad.” Stiles' eyes widen. “Oh, fuck. My Dad.”

“It's okay.” Derek wraps his arms tighter around him. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Um, I’m not sure how much of a good idea that is.”

“I’ll take Scott with me. If Scott is on our side I’m sure it’ll work in our favor with the initial shock.” Derek pulls back enough to grab Stiles’ drink and take a sip.

“Shock, right. And yelling and grounding and 20 questions.” Stiles makes grabby hands at the glass and Derek hands it to him.

And with that, it's just that simple. The banter, the movements between them. Flawless. In sync. Stiles actually helps Derek fold laundry, LAUNDRY, as they talk and Derek goes into detail about London and France and when Stiles mentions how he always wanted to go there, Derek says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world for him, that he’d take Stiles whenever he wanted to go.

And even though Stiles had promised Derek he would respect his need to take things slow he may or may not have jumped onto the bed and into Derek’s arms to kiss him, sending socks and underwear flying after the comment.

Kissing was okay. They could kiss, Stiles knew that. But he needed to pull himself away from Derek’s warmth because he could feel how hard he was and yes, that was definitely Derek’s dick against his leg before his teenage hormones took over and he pushed Derek too far. He mumbles a protest of how hard, no pun intended, this all was going to be with such a hot boyfriend, and what makes Stiles almost fall over wasn't that Derek didn't even blink at the boyfriend comment it was that Derek had to adjust himself and remind Stiles that he too was going to have a hard time not pushing Stiles up against the nearest wall and forcing his dick down Stiles’ throat.

His. Exact. Words.

When Jackson comes home a few hours later he finds Stiles and Derek curled up with each other talking on the couch. They both smile at him and Jackson just rolls his eyes in protest of the scene in front of him.

“How did it go with Lydia?” Stiles calls after him before he gets to his bedroom. Jackson stills in the hallway before turning, his lips in a firm thin line.

“She belongs with that other guy. I told her I was letting her go. We held on to each other for too long for the wrong reasons. I’ll always love her but it's time for her to move on with her life.”

Stiles stares open mouthed at him while Derek breaks away from him for a moment to walk to his beta. He lays his hand gently on Jackson’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Jackson clears his throat and stands up straight as Derek takes it as his cue to take his hand off. “Don’t make too much noise. If this is actually turning into a thing with you two, I might consider moving back in with my parents. The last thing I need to is to know what Stilinski sounds like during sex.” He shudders.

“How about we have everyone over?” Stiles offers. Derek looks at him, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Order some pizza. Watch some movies. It’ll be nice.” Stiles eyes Jackson. “Unless it's too soon…”

“No. It’s cool. Lydia and I are cool.” He pauses. “Can I invite Danny?”

“YOU KNOW WHERE DANNY IS???” Stiles yells. Jackson’s face turns into a pained and annoyed expression.

“Yeah. He just switched schools. What do you think happened? Christ, you’re weird.”  


***********

  
** One Year Later: **  
  
  
  
Stiles cell vibrates in his cup holder as the Jeep does 73 mph exactly down the interstate from Berkley. He smirks at the name flashing across the screen and he hits the speaker button as he keeps one hand on the wheel.

“I’m going as fast as I can. We talked about this, Derek. Patience.”

A growl comes through the line and then a loud sigh. “You’re taking too long.”

“It’s adorable how hard it is for you to be away from me.”

“Stiles.”

“You know it's hard on me too, Der. Very, very HARD.”

The growl comes back and Stiles bites his lower lip to keep from giggling.

“You’re the one who decided to have everyone get together as soon as you got home. Which means no matter how HARD it was for the both of us, we are going to have to wait.”

Stiles can't help but laugh now at his boyfriend's pun. “Oh Derek, don't act like you didn't miss everyone else too.”

“Everyone else isn't my boyfriend.”

“No, but they are your pack.”

“I know.” Derek pauses. “Just hurry, okay? The apartment doesn't smell like you anymore and it's driving me nuts.”

“I know. I’m going as fast as I can. I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Be safe.” Stiles hears the scratching of Derek’s beard against the speaker of the phone. “I love you.”

Stiles feels the familiar flip in his stomach; the same one he gets no matter how many times he hears Derek say it. And Derek says it a lot.

“I love you too.”


End file.
